Truer words were never spoken, Tom Petty. That's what I was thinking yesterday as I sang along with the radio on the way to my 32-week appointment. Because if there's one thing you need when faced with the prospect of pushing a watermelon through a peephole, then it's a sense of humor.
Not that baby girl is a melon. She's only 3 lbs., 5 oz. and will probably be a small but healthy 6 lbs. at birth. And this mama, for one, is grateful.
I'm also grateful for my recent crop of necklaces and the outfits they inspired. I'm still getting away with regular tops and dresses teamed with maternity leggings or jeans. The last pair of jeans is actually a pair of jeggings, and an uncomfortable one at that. But I just wore them for this pic and a short Zoom call. For actual outings I rely on big bootcuts. Like in the pic with the leopard coat, where I'm at the hospital for a prenatal class.
Those classes, by the way, are no joke. Consider this excerpt from the workbook:
"While Esmerelda is open to whatever happens, she is hoping for an unmedicated labor and birth. She plans to give birth with the support of family, friends, and 2 doulas."
Clearly, Esmerelda and I are different people.
Which is my way of saying, bring on the epidural.
